


Bride of Caesar

by ViciousKitten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Memories, caesar's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousKitten/pseuds/ViciousKitten
Summary: Needed to write but give my brain a rest from "Light in the Darkness".This hasn't been proof or beta read - hope it doesn't suck too much.





	Bride of Caesar

**Author's Note:**

> Needed to write but give my brain a rest from "Light in the Darkness".
> 
> This hasn't been proof or beta read - hope it doesn't suck too much.

"Eddie, come to bed."

Eddie. If anyone else called me that I'd have them up on a cross before they could blink. But her. Fucking hell that woman has me by the balls. Has since the day I razed her village to the ground twenty years ago. The way she charged me with her fists raised, screaming obscenities in her native tongue. Clawed at the Praetorians trying to hold her back, leaving deep gashes and drawing blood. So much fight in her. So much passion.

She clawed at me that night too, vulgar tribal words falling from her lips as I railed into her. Still so much passion in her, but no fight.

Of course I knew what she was doing. Earning my trust, my favor so she could survive. Smart, for a woman. Calculated, calm. I almost respected her for it, even back then.

Despite my best attempts to break her spirit, I failed miserably.  Her mind was too sharp, too keen to slurp up the bullshit I tried to feed her.   She knew her self-perceived worth and no amount of verbal or physical degradation would sway her.

Despite her obvious hatred of me, she remained begrudgingly obidient opening her legs with little to no hesitation.  I watched as she grew restless.  Most slave women would have enjoyed their good fortune and life of leisure that came with belonging to me, Caesar, the Son of Mars, the fucking Imperator.  But not her.  At first I thought her ungrateful.  How could this unrefined savage bitch be anything other than enthusiastic at the honor she had of servicing my cock?  Then I realized, to my horror, that she and I were more alike than I ever would want to admit.  

She clearly craved mental stimulation so I gave her books on history, which she devoured.  Then volumes on philosophy, which she read with equal relish.  Psychology, biology, theology, ancient books on war tactics: she consumed them all and soon exhausted my personal library.  I tasked my legionaries with bringing back more for her.  In the meantime, she regurgitated all that she had learned, putting forth her own theories and drawing personal conclusions.  She was staggeringly brilliant.  

I allowed her remain present during important briefings.  She would sit on the bed, looking the ignorant female as she did needlework but I knew she listened to every word.  After I dismissed my officers, I'd turn to her and without lifting her eyes from her embroidery, she'd point out discrepancies, flaws, and offer her opinion.  My secret advisor. She was usually right and although I never told her, a great deal of the Legion's success was as a result of her skill as a tactician. I suspect she always knew.

As the years passed and became less interested in carnal appetites, I found our nights spent playing chess or debating heatedly just as fufilling although frustrating as she more often than not was the victor.  There have been many times when I've cursed the folly of my younger self for the mandates I've implemented that deem her as a subhuman creature without worth.  In truth, she is my equal in every way.

I wonder if she knows how much she means to me.  I wonder if I mean anything to her after two decades. 

Everything aches as I climb into bed beside her.  She is quick to draw close to me and assume her favorite position, tucked under my arm with her head on my chest and my curiosity gets the better of me.

"Do you hate me?" I ask.

"Not anymore." Honest, succinct.

"Do you love me?"

"Not yet." Fair enough. I kiss the top of her head.  "Good night, Eddie."

"Good night, carrisima."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Carrisima: dearest


End file.
